Moon Cross'd Lovers
by StarsTilDawn
Summary: Teddy has been dating Victoire for a year now, and still hasn’t managed to summon up the courage to tell her he’s a werewolf... When he does, will she be able to forgive him? In response to Shauna Zombie’s PostSecret Challenge over on .


She thinks she knows everything about me by now. We've been going out a year now, and she certainly knows a lot- like the ridiculous quantity of muggle movies which can make me cry, and the fact that I want to be cremated, and even my messed up family history. But there's one thing she doesn't know, because I can't bring myself to tell her. The mere thought of talking about it to her brings me out in a cold sweat, because I can't bear the thought of losing her. I know that I will have to, though, and soon- I should have told her months ago.

"Victoire?" I ask quietly.

She turns her head towards me, tilting it upwards slightly towards my face. A smile tugs at the corners of her delicate lips, and her pale skin glows almost surreally in the orange glow from the streetlight. "Yes?"

I take a breath to tell her, but once again I lose my nerve. "You look beautiful tonight."

She smiles a little more widely, so I can see her teeth: white and as perfect as the rest of her. "Don't I always?" she teases.

"You are, but I'm still constantly astounded by it." I slip my arm around her narrow waist and hate myself for doing so. Breaking up with Victoire would hurt more than I want to think about, but if I don't tell her and the unthinkable happens- well, I don't know what I'd do, but it would be infinitely worse, I know that much. We walk in silence for a while- an entirely comfortable silence. We always walk home like this, rather than apparating, and I always treasure the last few minutes we have together- despite the way it's always marred by the knowledge of what I should be telling her. My eyes are drawn a few times from her face to the moon hanging above us, a semicircular shard of silvery white hanging against the dark sky. I'm safe, for now.

We reach the road where Victoire's house is, and I know that soon I'm going to leave her for another night, without having told her. What I _have_ to tell her. Only three houses to go before yet again I'll have missed my chance to tell her… Two houses… One house…

And then we're standing outside our door, and Victoire's beautifully pale face is tilted up towards mine for our goodbye. As always, I think to myself that I still have time to tell her…

I don't know what makes this evening different. Maybe it's the way the waxing moon hangs above us, a silvery shard of warning. Maybe it's the way the moonlight light catches Victoire's blonde hair and faintly showing her freckles, making her more beautiful than anyone I've ever seen. Or maybe it's because, even as I take a breath and open my mouth to speak, I don't truly believe I'll say it. But somehow, I do.

"Victoire, um, there's something I should have told you a long time ago."

"Oh?" There's just a hint of French in the way she says it, and I feel sick about what I'm about to say.

"I, um, I-" I stammer.

"Go on." Her blue eyes are fixed on my face, concerned and confused, and I wonder whether it's too late to back out of this.

"I've been meaning to tell you for months, honestly. I just- can't bear the thought of losing you. I honestly didn't- don't- mean to hurt you…"

A slight wrinkle of worry forms on her forehead. "What is it? Are you ill?"

I stare hopelessly into those pale blue eyes and wish, desperately, that I didn't have to do this. "I- I'm a werewolf."

Her eyes narrow. "A werewolf? You did not think I should know this sooner?"

"I'm sorry, Victoire. I'm so sorry, I did mean to tell you, there were so many times I almost did-"

"And yet you didn't."

"I'm so sorry, Victoire…" I look into her blue eyes again, into her face clouded by anger. For a wild second I contemplate getting down on one knee and begging her for her hand, but this would be quite possibly the stupidest time to propose imaginable. Anyway, I don't have a ring.

"You could have killed me," she says flatly.  
"I made sure I never saw you at the full moon-" I begin helplessly.

"You could have _killed_ me!" she says again, more forcefully. "I can't believe you'd do that. You expect me to just accept this?"

"Of course not, but-" Before I can finish my sentence, she turns and walks towards the door. I stare after her in a daze, until the slamming of the door brings me back to my senses with a jolt. "Victoire!" I call weakly. I start forward, and knock on the door, gently at first but then more desperately. She doesn't answer. I stand there hopelessly for a while, until I realise that I'm freezing cold and quite possibly looking like some kind of crazed stalker. And the Delacour-Weasleys have had more than their fair share of crazed stalkers, with Fleur being part-Veela. I force myself to turn and walk out of the garden, then disapparate back to my own house.

It isn't until I walk in and see one of her gloves on the kitchen counter that I come fully out of my daze and I realise what I've done. I've just lost the girl who means the world to me. I've lost many things to my lycanthropy, but right now this feels like the worst. I stare at the glove for a long time, then pick it up, hold it to my nose and inhale deeply. It smells of Victoire- a rich, evocative mix of her flowery perfume and something else that I can't describe as anything other than unmistakeably _her_. I stand there for longer than I care to admit, holding the glove and trying not to think of all the things I'll miss. Never again will she bite her lip to try and stop herself laughing at something stupid I've said; never again will I get to watch her walk away and know it won't be long before I see her again; never again will I feel her slender fingers in my hand or her soft lips pressed against mine. I try not to think these things, but I do anyway. And so passes one of the longest nights of my life.

I wake up late the next day to find that I've slept through the entire morning and that I'm supposed to be having Sunday lunch at the Potter's in half an hour's time. For a moment I consider cancelling, since I'm not sure I can face explaining about Victoire and me. I pull open the curtains, and the world outside seems very cold and grey. Brown leaves skitter along the dull tarmac of the road, and looming grey clouds hang low in the sky like. I dress as quickly as possible- although every item of clothing I own suddenly seems to remind me of Victoire. By the time I reach Godric's Hollow, I've managed to bring my emotions under control enough that when Ginny asks how Victoire is, I don't burst into tears. Instead, I tell her calmly that we're going through a rough patch at the moment- it's not quite a lie, I suppose. She clucks sympathetically and tells me that it's a good thing she cooked roast beef, my favourite.

Despite her kindness, it's a relief to go home and slump on the sofa-, at least until I realise that I'm now alone with nothing to distract me from missing her. I try to read for a while, but find my eyes just scanning the words without understanding any of them. I sigh, and glance around the room. Victoire's glove is still on the table. Tears spring to my eyes on seeing it. I wonder whether, if I gave it back to her, she would talk to me. At the very least, it would give me a chance to see her again…

A knock at the door. I drop the glove hastily, my heart leaping as for a brief second I think that it might be Victoire. Then I come to my senses. Of course it isn't her- but who else would knock on my door at this time of night, without warning? _Please let it be her_, I beg silently as I cross the living room and walk through the hall, flicking on the light as I pass.

I open the door, and I can't stop a smile leaping to my face. It _is_ Victoire, with her hair damp from the rain and a thick coat bundled around her. I hadn't even realised it was raining. She looks so beautiful that for a few seconds I forget to breath. Next I realise I should say something to cover the fact that I'm staring. But I don't know what to say; only that seeing her like this makes me unbelievably happy. "Victoire…"

"Yes. Can I come in?"

"Um, yeah, I suppose so…" I say, in a dazed voice. "I mean, yes, of course you can." I step aside, wondering what she could possibly want. If she was just here for the glove, she wouldn't ask to come in, surely?

Victoire takes a step forward, then stops in the doorway and looks at me, hard. I brace myself for bad news. "Teddy, I'm sorry."  
I simply stare at her, confused. "For what?"

"For overreacting last night. I understand why you didn't want to tell me."  
"I should've told you," I say. "I know I should have told you, and I'll never forgive myself. Victoire, I'm so sorry. I love you-"

She smiles slightly, apparently amused by my rambling. "I know."

"I love you," I repeat.

"I love you too."

"Really?" My mouth falls open, and I stare at her stupidly for a few seconds- she's never said she loves me before. "But I'm- I'm a werewolf."

She shrugs. "Well, then I suppose I love a werewolf."

My tentative smile widens as I realise that she means it. As we lean together to kiss in the rain, I think that there are worse things than being a werewolf. And then our lips meet, and there's no room left in my head for thought.

**A/N: This is written in response to Shauna Zombie's PostSecret challenge. The secret I got was "I haven't told you everything." Reviews would be hugely appreciated- especially as I've never written in present tense before. Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise, as per usual.**


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